Urban Intervention No. 51
On sunny lunchtimes, dress up as a giant duck and then sit by the lake in St James’s Park throwing torn off chunks of Ginsters pasties at tourists.
Jul 012013
WORDS & IMAGES
Jun 262013
Let’s All Meet Up In The Year 2000 by Rachel Stevenson
He plays Smokey Robinson and The Shirelles and Dressy Bessy and I lie on the sofa bed in the living room and have paracetamol and chocolate biscuits for my breakfast, until he starts to indicate that he wants me to leave. I walk down on my own in the rain to Notting Hill, feeling ill and sorry for myself. The sky is the colour of a dirty duvet and the trees are broken umbrellas that don’t keep the drizzle off. [read more…]
Jun 242013
At Bow Church DLR, the bride boards, cream heels delicately minding the gap. Her right hand grips a posy, her left curls itself around a handrail, silver ring glittering.
Jun 192013
by Doreen Joy Barber
Feet sticking to the floor, you squeeze past customers to collect the empty glassware to be returned to the bar, to be baptized in the hot water of the glass washer and to be reborn again as a vessel for ale, lager, wine or rudimentary cocktail. You think about when you can be reborn. You think about when you can have a shower to wash off whatever the hell is black and sticky on your arm. [read more…]
Jun 132013
Removing his coat, he breaks through the buses and levers himself over the railing that divides Upper Street. Dismounting, he smiles at me drunkenly, then jigs into Angel’s welcoming mouth.
Jun 102013
The sending of the first Smoke book to the printer is celebrated with a trip to Erith.
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Jun 062013
by Joan Byrne
It’s Friday afternoon and I’m in the sanctuary that is Tate Modern Members’ Room. I’m enjoying an elevated feeling of oneness with life and art, and loving the view of the City with St Paul’s at its centre. Sipping a coffee, I watch people come and go. Many of them are works of art themselves, but not this man. He’s dead ordinary, mid-sixties, impassive face, bland dresser. With him is a girl, aged about fourteen. [read more…]
Jun 032013
Please Do Not Touch The Walrus No. 4
A fantastic new series in which we attempt to catalogue some of the amazing things you can’t do in our fabulous capital city. Today: congregating in Tower Hamlets. [see more…]
May 302013
by Sno Flo
Spotting johns is easier. I see one in Ryman’s, buying pens. He’s fifty-odd, tall and bladder-bellied, with a sundae-swirl of fifties hair and a hot-pink polo shirt. Pink crocs too, the unsavoury bastard. I walk out. [read more…]
May 292013
… it’s all been downhill since they stopped wearing capes, you know…
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